


Finding Joy

by bugarungus



Category: B.A.P
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Dissatisfying Relationships, M/M, Personal Growth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-08 13:15:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10387455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bugarungus/pseuds/bugarungus
Summary: Jongup is unhappy in his relationship with Youngjae. He can't help wondering if the grass would be greener with someone else.





	1. Downhill

It’s not ideal.

Their relationship has never been perfect. No one’s ever is, right? At least that’s what Jongup hopes. He tries not to spend too much time comparing his life to anyone else’s. It will only leave him feeling disappointed.

“I love you,” Youngjae says quietly as Jongup passes him.

“Love you, too,” he replies, but there isn’t any feeling behind it. It’s just something they say, something that’s expected after being together for so long. After the millions of times they’ve said the words, they’ve become completely meaningless.

Jongup shuffles into the kitchen for a glass of water. He doesn’t ask Youngjae if he wants anything. That’s not how their relationship works anymore. They don’t do thoughtful things like that for each other. They take care of themselves, side by side, and Jongup is… tired.

He’s tired of living like this. He’s tired of stumbling through his life without feeling anything, like an emotionless zombie. He wonders if Youngjae feels the same, but he never asks. He’s afraid of the answer.

{~O~}

It’s autumn when Jongup meets Junhong. The air is chilly, and he’s forgotten his coat at home. He hunches his shoulders against the wind and ducks his head and runs smack into the open door of the taxi that’s parked at the curb. The breath is knocked out of his lungs, and he barely registers the large hands catching him by his elbows to keep him from falling flat on the pavement.

He looks up, shivering as the cool October air cuts through the fabric of his shirt, and finds deep, brown eyes peeking out from under strong, furrowed brows. The eyes study him with concern, the lips attached to the same face moving as though they’re speaking, but Jongup can’t hear a word. All he hears is the rapid beating of his heart and the lack of air moving in his lungs.

“... my goodness, are you okay?” His hearing comes back to him all at once. He gasps. He shudders. He feels like he’s going to collapse, but those hands are still holding him up even though his knees are buckling.

“Cold,” Jongup breathes through chattering teeth.

“Here, let’s get you inside.” There’s a coffee shop, nearly empty. He allows himself to be guided to the door, to a table, to a chair. He sits. He slumps. He falls face first into the table and doesn’t move for several minutes, until there’s a warm mug being pressed into his hand.

Hot chocolate. “I didn’t know what you like, and who doesn’t like hot chocolate?” He laughs nervously. “I’m Junhong.” Junhong is young. He looks young. He acts young. Jongup thinks he’s probably a child, maybe still in high school. “What’s your name?”

Jongup shakes his head. His name doesn’t matter. He’s not making friends with Junhong. He’s not looking for friends. Junhong doesn’t seem to mind.

“Are you feeling better now? Did you get hurt?”

“Fine,” Jongup answers, sounding distant, even to his own ears.

“I feel just terrible about this. I’m so sorry. Are you sure you’re okay?” Junhong is so persistent. If Jongup were in a better mood he might find it cute.

“It’s fine,” he repeats gruffly and wonders when he became so grumpy.

“Oh, okay. I’ll let you be.” Junhong turns to walk away, but halfway to the door he turns back. He slides a business card across the table, and when Jongup looks up, he shrugs his shoulders. “In case you decide, or rather, realise, you’re not okay.”

Jongup needs to get to work. Jongup needs to do the right thing and get rid of that card before he leaves. Jongup slips the card into his wallet behind his ID and sips the hot chocolate until his cup is empty and he’s an hour late for work.

{~O~}

“You’re home late.” Youngjae is on the couch when Jongup enters the apartment, closing the door behind him as he shrugs out of his coat.

“Mmm. Inventory.” He drops his keys on the table by the door and heads straight for the fridge. He hasn’t eaten all day.

“Leftovers in the microwave. Had to eat without you. Early morning tomorrow.” Jongup closes the fridge and checks the microwave. There’s not much leftover. Jongup wonders if Youngjae had even intended to share or if he just happened to have some left. He covers the plate and puts it in the fridge before ordering pizza for himself.

There are files all over the table, and Youngjae has one open in his lap, taking notes on a legal pad balanced on the arm of the couch. “Where’s your plate?” he asks when he glances up.

“Not in the mood for noodles,” Jongup lies, and his stomach feels sour because it’s so easy to bend the truth. It’s not even anything important, but it makes Jongup wonder if it would be so easy to lie about other things.

Youngjae sighs and closes the file on his lap, shuffling it into a stack along with the rest of the folders on the table. “I’m sorry. You were late. I didn’t know when you’d be home.”

“It’s fine.” It’s not. “It doesn’t matter.” It does. “I wanted pizza anyway.” He didn’t.

Jongup doesn’t expect elaborate, home cooked meals every night. He doesn’t even expect Youngjae to be home every night. His job as a paralegal means plenty of late nights at the office, but even when he’s home on time, he spends most of his evenings taking notes and typing up documents. Being home isn’t the same thing as being present.

Jongup used to miss Youngjae when he worked late. He used to hate the silence in the apartment when he was alone. Now he just wishes Youngjae would finish his work at the office. The only thing worse than being alone and lonely is feeling lonely despite not being alone.

{~O~}

Jongup would like to say he hasn’t given Junhong a second thought since the day he was nearly knocked on his ass by a taxi door, but that would be a lie. Junhong’s business card lives in Jongup’s wallet. It's hidden behind other cards, but that doesn’t mean he never sees it.

At least once a week Jongup finds the card in his hand. He fingers the embossed lettering of the company name and the worn edges of the cardstock until someone or something snaps him out of his thoughts. Then he slips the card back into his wallet and does his best to distract himself from the questions in his mind.

Jongup is with Youngjae, and he’s happy. Okay, he’s not, but they’ve been together so long they’re practically married. They’re only a year apart in age, and Youngjae has a lucrative job. Jongup barely makes enough to get by on his own; Youngjae supports him.

It’s infuriating. Jongup is an adult. He doesn’t need taking care of. He needs… wants a partner, not a substitute parent. He needs someone to share his bed and show him that he’s loved and wanted, that he has worth. He needs someone to make him forget that work is meaningless and his degree is useless and he’ll never make enough money to live on.

Youngjae is nice. He’s a good person. He’s faithful. Jongup never even wonders where Youngjae is when they’re not together. If he isn’t with Jongup, he’s either working or asleep. He’s boring. Jongup wants more.

Youngjae isn't the love of his life. No matter how much Jongup wishes he were, he's not.

{~O~}

The relationship wasn't even that long.

He was only with Yongguk for a few months, but he left a lasting impression and took a piece of Jongup with him when they parted.

Jongup isn't even sure how it happened.

He knows how they met, through mutual friends; Yongguk's dorky high school buddies were pals with all the musical theater nerds Jongup hung out with. He remembers what it was like being with Yongguk, never really spending time together because they were young and their parents still dictated where they spent their time and with whom. They saw each other before school and between classes, and Jongup called Yongguk as soon as he walked in the door when he got home. He recalls sneaking calls late at night as well, whispering into the phone how much they loved each other along with promises of kisses to come.

It was over before it had really begun. One day they were holding hands and sneaking a kiss outside of Jongup’s statistics classroom and the next day they stopped talking completely. He still doesn’t remember why.

Six years later Jongup hears a deep voice on the other side of the aisle where he’s stocking cans of peas and green beans on the shelf. It’s so familiar. He cocks his head to the side as he tries to place it.

“No, no. Now remember, honey, Daddy said no candy today.” The words are low, hushed, a gentle chiding that doesn’t even draw a whine from the child. Jongup remembers hearing something similar before, but it seems like it was a million years ago. _No, no. Don’t be sad. Remember, honey, I’ll see you at school in just a few hours._

Yongguk.

Jongup peeks around the end of the aisle to get a glimpse of the man behind the voice. It’s definitely him. His shoulders are broader, his hair not quite as unruly, his jaw a bit more defined, but there’s still the smolder in his eyes and the confidence in his stance. The child is his spitting image, and there’s a white gold band on his left hand.

Jongup is called to the front of the store to man the check out before Yongguk even notices him, but just a few minutes later they're face to face as Jongup scans the handful of items in Yongguk's basket.

“Jongup,” Yongguk reads his name tag and then looks up at his face. “Hey, didn't we go to school together?” Jongup nods, and when he notices his manager watching him, he forces a smile on his face that he hopes passes for genuine. “It's been a long time, man. How’ve you been?”

“Fine, and you?” That's the proper response, right? It's what he's expected to say because _I miss you. I still love you. Why did we break up?_ is out of line.

“Good, I'm good. Well, I mean… I'm going through a messy divorce right now, but things will be better when it's over. We should grab a beer sometime, catch up.”

Jongup bobs his head noncommittally as he counts Yongguk's change.

“Look, here's my card,” Yongguk says as he trades a business card for the handful of coins. “My cell number is on the back. Text me sometime.”

He tells his son to wave goodbye to Jongup as they walk away. Now Jongup has two cards hidden behind his ID.

{~O~}

Work is a minefield, and Jongup must tread carefully. An attractive young man in a business suit with kind eyes and pretty, puffy lips flirts with him, and he has to remind himself that he's taken and even a one night stand would be cheating.

Youngjae is a good person. He doesn't deserve that. Jongup… well, he wonders more and more each day if he even deserves Youngjae.

“Good morning, Jongup. You look lovely today.” The puffy pout turns into a puffy smile that makes tiny wrinkles appear between his cheeks and eyes. “The blonde suits you.” Jongup ducks his head to hide his eyes behind his newly-bleached fringe.

“Thank you, Daehyun,” he mumbles.

Daehyun’s fingers brush his palm as he takes his change. Jongup should be used to it by now. This happens every morning, but today he must be feeling extra sensitive, extra starved for attention and affection and touch, extra needy. He shudders and his knees go weak, and he unintentionally leans over the counter. Puffy lips meet his forehead and he whines.

“See you tomorrow,” he whispers, and before Jongup has the strength to lift his head Daehyun is gone.

When the store is empty, Jongup rests his cheek on the cool countertop and closes his eyes.

“Why don’t you just ask him out? He’d say yes, you know he would.”

“We’ve talked about this, Diane. I’m in a relationship.”

“Not a happy one.”

“Not the point. Go… front the shelves or something.”

Diane waddles away, her long, permed hair always reminding Jongup of an electrocuted poodle. Jongup opens his wallet and lays the business cards out on the counter. He touches them with the tips of his fingers and feels the different textures. The bell rings as the door opens, and he carefully stacks the cards to slip them back into his wallet as he mumbles a greeting at the customer. Junhong, Yongguk, Daehyun… now there are three.

{~O~}

Himchan is a mystery. He shows up at the store late at night when Jongup is working alone with coffee and leftover croissants from his job at the bakery next door. He always smells like sugar and butter.

He borrows the extra stool from behind the counter and lays everything out between them like he owns the place, but he never speaks.

They pick at their food and sip their coffee in comfortable silence. Himchan touches Jongup’s hand before he leaves. His fingers slide across Jongup's knuckles where his palm rests against the counter, and then he's gone without a word.

Jongup wishes Himchan would talk to him. He wishes Himchan would explain why he keeps showing up. He wishes Himchan would confide in him.

Jongup wishes Himchan would stay.

Himchan doesn't have a business card, but sometime around the third week of their ritual he leaves behind a receipt with his number on the back and a note telling Jongup to say hi whenever he feels lonely.

Jongup goes a whole week without a visit from Himchan before he works up the courage to text him. All the message says is _hi_ , but an hour later, in Himchan walks with two cups of coffee and a paper bag in hand. The idea flits through Jongup's mind for a split second to ask Himchan where he's been the past week, but the thought is gone before Jongup can act on it.

Himchan's fingers linger a little longer on Jongup's hand that night and every night after.

The receipt with Himchan's number is folded into a small rectangle and sandwiched between Junhong's card and Daehyun's. Now Jongup has four.

 {~O~}

It’s been months, but Jongup still sees Junhong’s face sometimes when he closes his eyes. He dreams about Junhong, his strong hands and the expression of concern that draws his eyebrows together. It terrifies Jongup because he knows he talks in his sleep. What if Youngjae leans down to kiss him goodbye one morning and Jongup murmurs Junhong’s name? The fragile structure that is their relationship will crumble and from the ruins flowers of distrust will bloom.

{~O~}

“I won't be home.”

Youngjae looks up from his work. Tonight his files are spread out over the kitchen table, and his fingers are perched over the keyboard of his laptop. “Tomorrow?”

“Anymore. I'm moving out.”

Tears well in Youngjae's eyes, and his lower lip trembles. He doesn't ask why, just mumbles, “Okay,” and watches as Jongup gathers the few belongings he has before walking out the door.

His parents only live a few blocks from the apartment Jongup shares… shared with Youngjae. When he knocks on the door, his mother answers almost instantly and ushers him inside.

“Did you eat?” Why do mothers always ask that? Jongup is old enough to find food if he's hungry. He's not hungry anyway. He doesn't think he'll be hungry for awhile.

“I'm fine. Just wanna lay down.”

His mother points to the stairs, like Jongup doesn't know where his room is, like he didn't grow up in this house, and leaves him alone.

He doesn't cry right away. He thought he would. He thinks he should. It should hurt more, leaving someone, but all he feels is numb and empty.

Around midnight, when his parents are asleep and the noise in the house is reduced to the whir of the ceiling fan and the muffled sounds of the television three doors down the hall, Jongup sits at his desk with his collection of cards laid out in front of him. He touches each one, taps his fingers against them like keys on a piano.

He picks one, black with metallic teal ink and the name of some industrial cleaning company at the top. He types the number into his phone and saves it. He sets the phone aside and gathers the cards back into a pile.

He lays in bed and stares at the ceiling for an hour, two… he drifts off.


	2. The Climb

**To: Yongguk**

Hi it's Jongup

Wanna hang out?

 

The bar Yongguk chooses is dim and dingy, and the bartender seems to know him well. They sit at a table in the back corner with a couple of pints of beer. Jongup isn’t sure what to say. He waits for Yongguk to talk.

“So what have you been up to since graduation? Did you go to college?” Yongguk drains half his glass before Jongup can answer.

“Yes, but my degree isn’t very… It’s hard to get a job in my field. That’s why I work at the grocery store.”

“What is your field?”

“Dance. If you don’t get hired into a company right out of school, you’re pretty much stuck teaching, and I’m just… not that good with kids.”

“I didn’t think I was good with kids until I had a couple.”

“A couple?”

“Mhmm," Yongguk hums, "two boys. They’re two and three years old. You met my oldest, that day in the store.”

“Where are they tonight?”

“Oh, they live with their mom, but I get them on weekends. I’m too busy with work to take care of them during the week.”

Yongguk talks a lot, almost entirely about himself. He drinks a lot, and he steps outside to smoke often. He smells like an ashtray and cleaning products. He's not as friendly as Jongup remembers, and Jongup has to work hard not to cringe when Yongguk continually leans into him. The whole experience is... unpleasant.

Jongup isn’t sure he likes Yongguk anymore, but he still loves him. He can’t get his heart and his head to agree, and it makes him feel dizzy, though that could also be the beer.

It’s late when they say goodnight. Yongguk says they should do it again sometime soon. Jongup nods and walks away.

When he gets home, he takes Yongguk’s card out of his wallet. He tears it into confetti and watches the pieces flutter into the trash can. He’s back down to three.

{~O~}

The entire history of messages between Jongup and Himchan is just Jongup repeatedly sending the same message:  _ Hi _ .

Every time he sends the message, Himchan comes, without fail. They share their coffee and their company, and it’s nice. It’s always nice.

One night Jongup breaks their silence.

“I left my boyfriend.” Himchan raises an eyebrow at him but doesn’t make a sound. “I was… it was… I wasn’t happy. I kept thinking it might get better.” Himchan extends his arm across the counter and wraps his warm fingers around Jongup’s hand. His head tilts sideways, encouraging Jongup to continue. “It didn’t get better. I felt like I was drowning. I had to get out.” Jongup stares at their hands on the counter. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Himchan lower his head to see Jongup’s face.

There’s a soft, sympathetic smile teasing the corners of Himchan’s lips, not quite breaking through. It’s the first time Jongup has seen him smile though, and Jongup thinks it's a nice look on him.

“Are you happier?” His voice is so quiet, slightly raspy. It’s a sound that would be lovely to wake up to.

“Not really.” He feels Himchan’s thumb rubbing against the back of his hand. “I haven't been alone in so long I'm not sure I even know how to be alone anymore.”

“Did you keep the apartment?”

“I'm staying with my parents.”

Himchan nods. He doesn't talk anymore. He stays until close, and when Jongup locks the door behind them, Himchan takes his hand. He leads Jongup down the sidewalk, past the bakery, through a door, up some stairs. Himchan opens the door to a small, one-room apartment. There's a stove and fridge off to the right and a bed in the far left corner. A couch is pushed right up to the side of the bed, and there are only a few feet between the couch and a chest of drawers with a small television on top.

Himchan gestures to the couch, and Jongup sits, nervously picking at his cuticles as Himchan heats water in an electric kettle to make tea. Everything in the room smells like baked goods, like Himchan. Nothing smells like Youngjae anymore. Jongup shouldn’t miss it. He didn’t think he would, but he does.

The tears finally come. He cries. He has a full breakdown on a near stranger’s couch, and Himchan just holds him and lets him cry. When Jongup’s tears run dry Himchan moves them to the bed, and Jongup falls asleep in his arms. It still doesn’t smell like Youngjae, but Jongup thinks he can live with it.

{~O~}

Himchan isn’t just quiet, he’s nearly mute. Over the month that Jongup spends with Himchan he learns to listen when Himchan chooses to speak because his words are almost always meaningful. 

When they fuck, Himchan tells him how good he is, how good it feels. When Jongup feels like crying, Himchan reminds him that it’s okay to be sad and that the feeling will pass in time. He’s a constant source of support and encouragement, and it drives Jongup crazy.

“Are you happy?”

Jongup looks up from his book. He’s curled into the corner of the couch, trying to make himself as small as possible. He’s not sure how to answer.

He’s… happi _er_ , he thinks, maybe. But…

“If you have to think about it that long, the answer is no.”

Jongup wants to cry again. He feels like lately that’s all he does. He fucks Himchan, he cries, and they cuddle. 

“It’s okay if I don’t make you happy. It’s okay if you miss Youngjae. It’s okay if you’d rather be alone.”

“You don’t mind?”

“I’m okay with being your friend, Jongup. I didn’t expect us to be together forever. You were on the rebound.”

“So what do we do now?”

Himchan smiles, and Jongup likes him. He likes him, but he doesn’t love him. He wishes he did.

“Now... we fuck one more time, because your cock is amazing and I'm sad I have to give that up." Jongup ducks his head to hide his smile. "Then you go back to your parents. You text me when you need a friend. You talk to me if you feel like it or you don’t if you don’t.”

“Is it really that simple?”

Himchan nods. He bends down to kiss Jongup on the cheek. He wraps his arms around Jongup’s shoulders. He sits beside him on the couch and waits.

Jongup cries. It doesn’t last as long this time, and when it passes, they fuck, and he packs his clothes into his backpack and goes home to his parents.

Himchan still comes to visit when Jongup texts. He smiles more now, and Jongup thinks maybe they both did each other some good. Himchan still brings coffee and croissants. He still doesn’t talk, but they're friends and it's okay.

Jongup waits three weeks before he removes Himchan’s receipt from his wallet. He smiles as he tucks it between the pages of his favorite book and puts it back on the shelf. Only two remain.

{~O~}

“You're looking better than usual. Something happen?”

Today Daehyun's suit is navy with white pinstripes. His sky blue button down is crisp and starched, and his tie has silver and grey stripes in a seemingly random assortment of widths. Daehyun's eyes sparkle as Jongup looks up at him with more confidence than he's ever shown.

“I just feel free today,” he says.

“You know, I gave you my card awhile back but you never called me. Are you not interested?”

“I was with someone at the time.”

“But you're not now?” Daehyun gives him a cheeky grin, and Jongup can't help but smile back.

“No, I'm available.”

“Then would you like to have dinner with me sometime this week?” Jongup smiles. He actually smiles, and Daehyun steps back from the counter. “Whoa, you should warn a guy before you unleash the sun on him.” Daehyun laughs. It’s a warm sound. It makes Jongup’s chest feel funny. “So how about dinner, hmm?”

Jongup says yes.

Daehyun is full of surprises. As expected, he’s charming. He laughs and smiles like it’s a habit he can’t break.  Instead of taking Jongup out, Daehyun invites him over and cooks for him. It’s nothing fancy, just some pasta dish he throws together, but it tastes good and Jongup finds he enjoys watching Daehyun cook.

“I really didn’t think you’d agree to dinner.” They’re sitting on opposite ends of the white leather couch in Daehyun’s pristine living room. Daehyun looks almost shy as he runs his finger around the rim of his wine glass. “We’ve been dancing around each other for so long… I thought I was misreading the whole thing.”

“I told you, I was with someone.”

“Ah, but you flirted back, didn’t you?” His tone is teasing. Jongup smiles. He seems to be smiling a lot more lately.

“I didn’t realise I was flirting back. I was just…” Jongup doesn't know how to finish the sentence so he stares into his glass as he swirls his wine around instead.

“Being friendly?” Jongup is slightly startled as he notices Daehyun has set his wine aside and cut the distance between them in half. “Jongup, I don’t know if you know this, but you’re not actually all that friendly.”

Jongup would be upset if he didn’t know it was the truth. It’s not that he’s  _ not friendly _ , but he’s often distracted or unhappy and probably comes off as cold. “No, I know.”

“But you _are_ friendly with me. I could see the difference in how you treated me. Flirting.” Daehyun shifts closer again, taking Jongup's glass and placing it on the table. His fingers slide through Jongup’s hair, pushing it back behind his ear. “Jongup.” It’s just barely a breath in his ear. “Can I kiss you?”

Jongup nods. His eyes fall shut, and he feels Daehyun’s warmth wash over him as their lips touch. Those puffy lips that Jongup had admired from the other side of the counter for so long are just as soft and smooth as he imagined, and when Daehyun pulls away, Jongup chases him. He swings one leg over Daehyun and pins him to the back of the couch to taste him and nibble at his skin, and Daehyun whimpers.

Jongup licks a path up Daehyun's neck to his ear. “Can I fuck you?” he asks.

The sound Daehyun makes is desperate and needy.  “Please.  _ Please _ , Jongup,” he begs.

They don't even make it to the bed. Daehyun rides him right there on the couch, both of them still partially dressed, until Jongup’s fingers leave bruises on Daehyun’s hips with his grip.

Jongup wakes up sticky the next morning. His skin is plastered to the white leather with cum and sweat. There’s soft snoring coming from the open door of the bedroom. He gathers his clothes and slips out as quietly as he can.

He doesn’t do one night stands. The whole walk of shame thing is new for him. He feels sick. He feels dirty. Jongup isn’t even sure he wants to show up for work.

Daehyun comes in a little later than his normal time, grabbing a few energy drinks and a bit of breakfast from the deli before making his way to Jongup’s register to pay for his items. “You owe me for the mess on the couch,” he says under his breath. There’s a smirk on his face and no trace of the sweet man who cooked dinner for Jongup just hours ago. Even his puffy lips look poisonous. Jongup feels fire under his skin, but he’s not sure if it’s anger or embarrassment.

When Jongup gets rid of Daehyun’s card, he burns it. He lights the scented candle his mother keeps in the bathroom and holds the corner of the card over the flame until the heat is licking at his fingertips. He drops it in the sink and rinses the ashes down the drain. One.

{~O~}

Living at home at the age of 26 is beyond frustrating. Jongup is lucky that his parents no longer treat him like a teenager, giving him a curfew or punishing him for neglecting to call them when he won’t be home, but they still keep a close eye on his activities and question him constantly.

“I didn’t hear you come in last night. Did you have to work late?” Jongup’s father asks from behind his newspaper. The family is gathered for breakfast, something his mother nearly insisted on when he moved back in, claiming she needed to know he was eating at least one proper meal a day.

“Yeah,” Jongup answers because it’s easier than explaining that he misses his apartment and the idea of coming home to his parents instead of his boyfriend depresses him. It’s not entirely a lie. He had been at work. After he locked up he sat around with Himchan until he felt too tired to avoid going home any longer. Himchan had hugged him before they parted, and Jongup thought he’d never stop wishing he loved Himchan.

His parents accept his answer, and Jongup briefly wonders if they’re taking the easy route as well, choosing to believe him even though they know he’s lying. He thinks again about how easy it was to lie to Youngjae.

Jongup is thankful for the Spring weather and the ability to spend his day off anywhere but home. He rounds the corner of a building on his way to the park and is knocked backwards when he walks straight into a tall, thin someone with bright pink hair. A pair of hands immediately brace Jongup by his elbows, steadying him on his feet.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there and--hey, don’t I know you?” Jongup is a bit stunned, still recovering from the loss of balance, but he recognises the actions and the voice. It’s a voice he hears in his dreams, the ones that don’t turn into nightmares.

“Junhong?” The expression of concern on Junhong’s face turns to surprise and confusion, his eyebrows seemingly unsure whether to go up or down.

“ _ Do _ I know you?”

“Um, no. Not really, but we’ve… uh… we’ve been in this position before. Only there was a taxi door between us last time.”

“Oh! Oh, god! That was you, I recognise you now. Jeez, I’m so sorry. I don’t know why this keeps happening to us.”

Jongup laughs, freely. It’s like something has broken apart in his chest, the vices that had gripped his lungs and heart releasing their hold so that he can take a full breath for the first time in what feels like years.

Junhong takes a step back. “Are you okay? I mean, I didn't knock anything loose when we crashed, did I?”

“No, no I'm fine. It's okay, really.” Jongup stares up at Junhong. He still looks young, but of course he does. It’s only been half a year. He wouldn’t have changed that much in so little time, but he doesn't look like a child anymore.

“You seem so different,” Junhong says. “It’s like you’re not even the same person I met before. You look better.” Junhong nods like he's got it all figured out, and Jongup tells him that yes, he  _ feels _ better. It feels good to know the difference is noticeable. “I don't even know your name. Why do I feel like I owe you a hot chocolate?”

“Mmm… buy me coffee and I’ll tell you my name.” Jongup flashes his teeth in what he hopes is a flirty smile, but he can feel his face betraying him. The smile is more shy than flirty, and it ends with him nervously nibbling at his lower lip.

Maybe that's what works for Junhong because he happily agrees and suggests a cafe nearby where the barista knows him well enough not to screw up his annoyingly complicated concoction of flavored syrups and steamed milk with a just whisper of caffeine.

“So, how about that name?” Junhong leans across the table on his elbows, and he’s so tall he manages to reach almost all the way to Jongup’s side. Junhong is cute, just like Jongup expected.

“Jongup. My name is Jongup.”

“Oh, man. It’s a relief to finally know you’re name. I’ve been calling you 'that boy’ for months.”

“You’ve been thinking of me?”

“Of course. You're kind of unforgettable.” Jongup blushes right down to his toes. He doesn't remember being this shy around anyone before. He feels awkward and out of place. He doesn't know how to take the compliment so he just mumbles a thank you and keeps his eyes on his coffee. “I noticed you remembered my name. Does that mean you've been thinking about me too?”

Jongup pulls out his wallet and fishes out Junhong's card. The cardstock is so worn and soft that it almost curls in his hand as he places it on the table and pushes it under Junhong's nose.

“You kept my card?” His voice is filled with awe. “How come you never called?”

“I was in a relationship, and then I was kind of sad for a while.” Jongup shrugs shoulders as he fiddles with the plastic lid on his cup. “I didn't actually figure you'd remember me anyway.” He truly didn't, but he had hoped.

“Since you can't be trusted to contact someone,” Junhong teases him, “do you think I could have your number?”

Jongup gives Junhong his number without a second thought, and he's just barely made it to the park when his phone buzzes with a message from Junhong.

 

**From: Junhong**

Did you say you dance?

There's a workshop this weekend

If you're free we could go together

 

**To: Junhong**

Sign me up


	3. The Peak

The dance workshop is held in an elementary school gym. The instructor stands on a platform, and about twenty other amateur dancers are scattered around the basketball court. Junhong finds an area near the front big enough for both of them to have their own space to move.

They start with warm-ups, and Jongup is surprised by how flexible he still is. It’s not too long before he’s loose and limber, and when the choreography portion of the workshop begins, he picks it up quickly. He moves to the music. He sweats. His heart races. He smiles, and for a little while he just forgets all about ever feeling unhappy.

Junhong watches him more than he dances, but Jongup can tell he’s also very good. When the workshop is over, the instructor approaches them. Junhong is grinning ear to ear. Jongup realises they know each other.

“Jongup, this is Hyungwon. He runs the studio where I teach.”

Hyungwon studies Jongup. He looks him over head to toe, assessing him, and he must like what he sees because he says, “It’s nice to meet you, Jongup. I’d like to talk to you about a job.”

Jongup shakes his head. He's never been interested in teaching dance. He's all about performing. “You don't have to agree now. Just come by the studio next week and I'll explain everything. You can even sit in on a few classes if you like. I promise you it's not the kind of job you think it is.”

Junhong hugs his arm, hangs off of him as he begs as cutely as possible, “Pleeeeeeeeease, Jongup. Please come. I'll be there and we can work together and it'll be so much fun pleasepleaseplease?”

“Ugh, alright, but I'm not committing to anything.”

“Yay!” Junhong jumps and claps, and he looks so much like an overgrown five-year-old that Jongup just wants to pinch his adorable cheeks.

 {~O~}

Hyungwon's studio is huge, much bigger than the one Jongup attended growing up. Instead of one main dance floor, it has several soundproofed classrooms complete with walls of floor to ceiling mirrors and ballet barres. Instead of a single changing room with dirty floors and no storage space, there are four, clean locker rooms. Instead of an old record player hooked up to ancient speakers, each room has a state of the art sound system.

Hyungwon meets him at the front desk, because there is a front desk, with an actual receptionist instead of a grouchy old woman who runs a health food store attached to the studio and happens to also answer the phones. He explains to Jongup that Junhong is in class and tells him to feel free to look around until Junhong's break.

Jongup wanders the hallways of the big building, peeking into classrooms when he can hear music seeping through the cracks around the doors. He's relieved to see the classes are mostly small. If he does end up taking the job, he won’t be surrounded by more than a dozen kids every hour. It’s more like eight or ten students per class, and none of the instructors are alone in the room with the students until he reaches the last one, Junhong’s. Everyone else has at least one demonstrator helping out, but Junhong is demonstrating the moves himself, moves that make him look boneless, like his body is made entirely of rubber as he sinks to the ground in a puddle and bounces right back up, engaging muscles Jongup didn’t know existed.

When the class is over, Junhong bows to his students, and they bow back before scurrying off to a locker room to clean up and change. A few parents are lingering in a little gallery near the back of the room, and Jongup steps aside as they slowly make their way to the door to wait for their kids out in the lobby.

“Hey!” Junhong shouts when he finally notices Jongup hanging around just inside the room. He runs toward Jongup, and for a second Jongup panics, thinking that Junhong is going to take a flying leap at him. Junhong is far too tall and lanky for that kind of behavior, and he must realise this because he drops to his knees and slides across the hardwood and into Jongup’s legs, wrapping his arms around Jongup’s thighs to keep him from falling over on impact. “You’re here,” he says, breathless, and Jongup laughs and nods. “My next class is in twenty minutes. Come with me to get some water before the kids get here.”

Junhong leads Jongup through a door at the far end of the room and into a small lounge area. He gestures for Jongup to have a seat as he pulls a couple of bottles of water from the fridge.

“When you say kids, how young are we talking?” Jongup asks, taking the bottle Junhong offers him and twisting the cap off.

“Oh, they’re not really kids. I mean, they are, but they’re teenagers . I work with age fifteen and up. Some of the moves I teach aren’t safe for a little kid’s spine so I get the older groups.”

“You mean like that puddle thing?”

Junhong’s smile is so pure, like he doesn’t have a worry in the world and truly enjoys each and every moment of life, and Jongup wants. He wants Junhong’s lips on his own and Junhong beneath him in bed (or on top, he doesn’t care which), but more than that he wants that happiness for himself. He wants to experience whatever Junhong has that makes him smile like that, wants to forget whatever he’s experienced himself that stole his own smile away.

“You saw that?”

“Yeah, it was stunning.”

The smile stays, but Junhong's eyes scrunch up as he looks down at the table, proud but embarrassed. “I wasn’t actually teaching them that. Most of them won't ever be able to do anything so advanced. They just don't have the flexibility for it, but at their age it's fun to watch and dream.”

Jongup vaguely remembers what it was like to see some mind blowing move at that age and imagine a time when he’d be able to replicate it. He remembers practicing in front of his dresser mirror when he was supposed to be sleeping or doing his homework. There was some kind of move that involved a twist and a spin and a jump and a drop. It took him ages to get it right, but when he finally did, it was like he couldn’t remember ever not knowing how to do it. He could probably still do it now if he warmed up enough. Muscle memory is an amazing thing.

“Still with me?” Junhong’s hands are huge, warm and soft with long, tapered fingers that wrap around Jongup’s as he attempts to bring Jongup back to the present.

“Yeah.” Jongup blinks. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“I’m going to assume Hyungwon didn’t tell you anything about the job.” Jongup shakes his head. He had been so caught up exploring the studio that he forgot all about the reason he came. “You wouldn’t actually be an instructor. At least not right away. Later on, if that’s something you think you’d be interested in, I’m sure Hyungwon could find a place for you, but for now you’d help me choreograph and demonstrate moves for my classes.”

 _Oh._ That actually doesn’t sound too bad at all. Jongup really enjoys choreographing, and it’s been forever since he’s had an opportunity like this. Although, he’s still a little worried about dealing with the kids, and he voices his concern.

“Well, like I said, all my kids are teens. They’re all pretty serious about dance, all handpicked by Hyungwon and myself. They’re respectful and polite or they aren’t allowed to continue the class. You’ll never have to worry about attitude or lack of focus from them. I think you might even like a few of them.”

Jongup asks a few more questions, mostly about the size of the classes and the schedule, and Junhong answers everything so professionally that Jongup wonders who really runs the studio, Hyungwon or Junhong. By the time Jongup has run out of questions, they can hear Junhong’s students warming up in the other room, laughing and goofing off as they stretch.

“If you’re not busy for the next hour, I’d love for you to sit in on the class. You can dance with us or just sit in the gallery and watch; it’s your choice.”

Jongup agrees, and even though he originally opts to sit and watch, ten minutes into the class he’s already up and moving with them. It's fun. The choreography is challenging but not frustratingly difficult.  The students are talented and dedicated, and Junhong is an excellent teacher. He is patient and has the control to be able to break down the moves in slow motion for anyone who is struggling. By the end of the class, as everyone is bowing to Junhong, Jongup has decided to take the job.

 {~O~}

Jongup rearranges his work schedule to accommodate the class times and rehearsals. Choreographing with Junhong means spending several late nights each week holed up in a classroom at the studio, showing each other moves and deciding together which ones should be included and where. Junhong praises Jongup continuously, gushing over how well they work together and how quickly Jongup is able to learn Junhong's moves and find ways to transition from them into his own.

On Friday of their second week, they finally have a few routines ready to share with Junhong's classes. They take an hour to go over the routines they've come up with, and afterwards they sit around in the lounge for a while, talking as they rehydrate.

“I think we could probably skip out early tonight,” Junhong offers quietly, and Jongup answers with a disappointed hum and a nod. He fiddles with his water bottle, spinning it on the table, avoiding eye contact with Junhong. He doesn't know how to tell Junhong that the studio feels more like home than his parents’ house, that he dreads the nights they aren't choreographing together and going home on the nights they are.

Junhong giggles, and when Jongup looks up, he's leaning back in his chair with his feet propped on the table and his fingers laced behind his head. “When I feel like being really bad, there's this taco stand on the corner by my apartment that makes the best pulled pork tacos. They close early though, like nine or so, so I can only get them on nights I sneak out early.”

“You'll have to take me sometime.”

“You like tacos?” Junhong asks, dropping his feet back to the floor and sitting up straight. Jongup nods again and smiles at the excitement in Junhong's eyes. “Man, these are the best! The lady who runs it makes everything fresh. She even fries the taco shells to order, and she adds lots of… what's that green stuff that's so popular in Thai and Mexican food? You know, the stuff they put in salsa and spring rolls.”

“Cilantro.”

“Yeah. They're loaded with cilantro.”

“You're making me hungry,” Jongup whines.

Junhong grins, wide, a mixture of mischief and glee sparkling in his eyes. He looks at his watch. “If we leave right now we can get there before they close, but we might have to run.”

“What are we waiting for?” Jongup tosses Junhong his bag and throws his own across his shoulder, and they quickly lock up the studio to race to the taco stand.

They're both out of breath when they reach their destination, and Jongup can feel a stitch in his side. Despite running half the way there, they don't make it before nine, but fortunately the taco stand stays open later on Fridays. Junhong orders for them, and they sit across from each other at a picnic table with a mountain of tacos and a pitcher of beer between them.

Jongup moans out loud at the first bite. The crunchy shell and the tender pork that practically melts like butter on his tongue, and then there’s the cilantro Junhong mentioned. The combination is nearly orgasmic, and he’s not embarrassed by his reaction, even when Junhong snorts at him.

“This is the best thing I've ever put in my mouth,” Jongup declares through a mouthful of taco. Junhong beams as he crunches on his own food.

“I told you. Didn't I tell you?” Junhong giggles. He _giggles_ , and Jongup's heart lurches at the bubbly sound. Sitting there at a picnic table in an empty parking lot beside a taco stand that serves the best tacos Jongup has ever tasted, he realises that he's happy.

It's not the kind of happiness you find in a situation, a job or a relationship or a moment. It's the kind of happiness that is just there, all the time, in all the moments and all the situations.

“Thank you,” Jongup says, and he can hear it in his voice, the happiness in his heart leaking into his words.

“Dude, it's just tacos,” Junhong teases. Another small fit of giggles makes his shoulders shake.

“I don't mean the tacos. I mean… if not for you I'd be stuck working double shifts at a soul-sucking grocery store.”

“But you’re still working at that soul-sucking grocery store.”

“Yeah, but I'm not working doubles anymore, and I'm dancing and I'm… I'm creating. I'm smiling and laughing and enjoying my life.” Jongup suddenly feels naked. He's pinned in place by the look on Junhong's face, a mixture of confusion and pride and something Jongup can't put his finger on.

“I really didn't do anything, Jongup. I just… well, I saw the way your eyes lit up when you told me you used to dance, and Hyungwon had been nagging me to find someone to work with and you were so good at the workshop and I like you… talking to you so I thought it was worth a shot to ask. I didn't think you'd take the job actually.”

“I didn't either,” Jongup admits, staring at the bite of taco he's still holding, “but I wanted to work with you.”

Junhong looks up at him, and he’s panting, short little breaths, like he can only get his lungs to work in fits and starts, and when Jongup finally lifts his eyes, he sees the faint tint of pink on Junhong's cheeks. “Do you really mean that?”

“Well, yeah. You're fun and smart and really good at your job, and I don't just mean the dancing.” Jongup laughs, just a huff of breath through his nose. “Did you know you do this thing with your face when you're really focused where you crunch up your nose and eyebrows and pucker your lips? It's so-”

“Jongup,” Junhong interrupts him, “if you say I'm cute, I will eat the rest of the tacos all by myself.”

“Fine,” Jongup says, though he _had_ actually been about to call Junhong cute. He scrambles for some other way to finish his sentence that won't offend Junhong. “Fine, you're not cute, but that face you pull? It makes me want to kiss you.”

Junhong gasps, his lips parted, the tiny, sharp inhale still barely audible over the street traffic. He gives Jongup a shy little smile before sucking his lower lip between his teeth and dropping his eyes to the table.

“I-I’m sorry, Junhong. Everything was going so well and… and now I’ve made you uncomf-”

“Why don’t you?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Kiss me. Why don’t you kiss me?” Junhong looks up at Jongup through his eyelashes, and it’s weird that the thought that comes to mind is, with how tall Junhong is, Jongup never gets to see him from this angle. “Why haven’t you kissed me, Jongup?”

“I didn’t think…”

“What? You… you didn’t want to, or you didn't think I’d want you to?” Jongup shrugs, unsure what the proper answer is. Junhong shakes his head. There’s still that shy hint of smile on his lips and the tint of pink on his cheeks, and he’s beautiful, so beautiful. His eyes are sparkling and huge, and they just keep getting bigger. It takes Jongup too long to notice that it’s because Junhong is moving forward, closer, _incredibly_ close. Junhong’s eyes drop, his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and then…

And then they’re kissing, Jongup rising to meet him halfway across the picnic table, accidentally crushing a taco under the heel of his hand and ignoring the mess completely as he brings that same hand up to touch Junhong’s cheek. Everything is soft, Junhong’s fringe that brushes Jongup’s face as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss, his skin beneath Jongup's fingers, his lips and the pressure of them against Jongup’s. As he slips his tongue into Junhong's mouth, Jongup wonders how he can taste so sweet, how he tastes more like cupcake frosting than beer and cilantro.

When they part, their eyes stay locked on each other. “My apartment is five minutes away. Sleep over tonight?” Junhong asks, and it sounds innocent, like he’s inviting Jongup over to read comic books and watch movies and binge on junk food.

Jongup blinks, looks down at the table to think clearly for a moment, and when he lifts his eyes again and nods, a blinding smile breaks out on Junhong’s face. He tries to tone it down by biting his lip, but he can't help the way his eyes disappear. Jongup knows better than to say it aloud, but Junhong is just… cute. Instead, he kisses Junhong’s nose, wipes away the mess of pork and sour cream he’d left on Junhong’s face with his hand, and says, “Tacos first,” and Junhong giggles and sits back on his side of the table.

They finish eating, their hands finding each other’s across the table at some point, and Jongup is reluctant to let go when all of the food is gone. Junhong sends him shy glances as they clean up and giggles when Jongup catches him looking.

Junhong leads Jongup down the sidewalk by the hand. His apartment is just a block away, a short walk. Jongup does his best to keep his nerves from getting the better of him along the way. He takes deep breaths as Junhong opens the door to the apartment, and then Junhong turns to face him, a hand on Jongup’s shoulder.

“You don’t have to stay. I won’t be upset if you decide to leave, but I’m not gonna do anything more than kissing tonight. I just… I really like you, and I don’t want to rush anything, so if that’s a problem, I won’t keep you here.”

Jongup nudges Junhong’s chin with his nose, unable to reach any higher without standing on his toes, and presses his lips to Junhong’s collar bone. “That’s fine, Junhong. Perfect. I like you too, you know.”

Junhong sighs, a little shaky, and reaches behind his back to open the door. “Come on in,” he murmurs.

They move straight through the living room, passing a tiny futon, the only furniture in the room aside from a small table that looks like Junhong nailed it together himself out of scrap wood. The bedroom is furnished similarly. There’s no bed frame, only a large mattress on the floor in one corner, covered with crumpled sheets and blankets. A television and ancient gaming system sit on the floor as well, one of the controllers lying beside the mattress with the cord stretched across the carpet. It's just barely long enough to reach so far. An assortment of games and DVDs are lined up along the wall behind the television, and both the laundry hamper and wardrobe have clothes spilling out of them in a pile at the foot of the mattress.

“How do you know what’s clean or dirty?” Jongup asks playfully, pushing the clothes around with his foot.

“Don’t touch those.” Junhong swats at Jongup’s shoulder. “If you move them I won’t be able to tell and I’ll have to wash everything.” Jongup laughs and watches Junhong spread the sheets a bit more neatly across the mattress. He sits on the edge and looks up at Jongup, holding out his hand as an invitation. “Well, are you gonna join me?”

“I kinda like this view,” he answers, using Junhong’s hand to balance as he straddles Junhong’s long legs and lowers himself to Junhong’s lap. “You’re too tall,” Jongup pouts. “You should come down to my level more often.”

“Oh yeah?” Junhong’s voice is breathy and weak as Jongup nuzzles into his neck and nips at the sensitive skin behind his ear. “What’s in it for me? Besides a backache.”

“Maybe,” Jongup kisses each of Junhong’s cheeks, “more,” and his nose and chin, “of this.” He presses his lips to Junhong’s and wraps his arms around Junhong’s neck. Junhong hums happily as Jongup’s tongue traces his bottom lip but pulls back to look up at Jongup.

“I think that might be worth the backache.” He falls back onto the mattress, dragging Jongup down with a squeak. “I’m tired,” Junhong mumbles against Jongup’s neck. “Let’s cuddle.”

Jongup can’t hold back the huff of laughter, and Junhong squirms as Jongup’s breath tickles his ear. “Cuddling it is,” he agrees. Junhong maneuvers them so that they’re laying on their sides with his face tucked into Jongup’s chest. Jongup uses his foot to work a fuzzy blanket over them, and before he can pull it around Junhong’s shoulders, the kid is already snoring softly.

They’re still fully clothed except for shoes, but Junhong is warm; his skin at his waist where his shirt rides up beneath Jongup’s fingers is smooth and just the right balance of squishy and firm, and Jongup thinks this is pretty cosy. He watches Junhong’s expressive face as he dreams for a long time before finally falling asleep himself.

 {~O~}

Jongup slowly drops his shifts at the grocery store. He cuts back from full time to part time. Five shifts a week dwindle to two. Regular customers notice and question him, but he just tells them he’s busy with other things. He doesn’t bother to explain that he’s finally settling into a new job and a new relationship or that the only reason he’s still hanging around is because he’s reluctant to move on completely.

“I heard you’re teaching dance now.” Jongup startles at the soft voice. He hadn't heard the bell ring to announce a customer arriving. Youngjae gives him a tentative smile and asks, “Why are you still working here if you got a better job?”

It takes Jongup longer than it should to react. He stares across the counter at Youngjae with wide eyes and ultimately decides it's best to say nothing. Youngjae looks thinner than the last time Jongup saw him. He can’t tell if it’s better or worse. Youngjae was pretty thin even when they were together, but it's not a bad look, just... different.

Youngjae moves toward the counter slowly, approaching Jongup as one would a wild animal, cautiously. Jongup takes a step back when Youngjae is a few feet away, and Youngjae freezes. He doesn’t come any closer, but he extends his hand to place an envelope on the counter.

“I just…” he bites his lip, and his eyebrows scrunch together as he tries to gather the proper words. “It’s some things I wanted you to know. I didn’t get a chance to say them the night you left, and I know it’s been a long time-”

“Eight months,” Jongup mumbles.

“Right. Eight months, I know. My point is… Well, read the letter. I’m not expecting anything from you. I just need you to know.”

“Know what?”

“Please, Jongup. I don’t know what I did to make you so… to make you act this way, but I’m too tired to fight you right now. Read the letter, and if you want to talk about anything, you know my number.”

Jongup makes no move to take the letter, but it doesn’t matter. Youngjae has already placed it on the counter. It’s out of his hands now.

Youngjae sighs, and his shoulders slump slightly as he gives a tired wave and leaves the store. Jongup watches him go, watches him get in his car and drive away before he finally takes the letter from the counter and carefully folds it. He thinks about throwing it out; the trash is right next to him behind the counter, but this might be the last piece of Youngjae he’ll ever have.

Though Jongup isn’t ready to read it just yet, he feels the letter might just hold the key to closure between them. He tucks it into his wallet, saving it until the time is right.

 {~O~}

“Jongup?” Junhong calls as he bursts through his apartment door. “You home?”

“In here,” he answers from the bedroom.

Home. Jongup is home. It’s still strange to hear it, but it’s true. After months of Jongup’s belongings slowly migrating to Junhong’s apartment, Junhong finally officially asked him to move in. It had only taken one trip in his father’s station wagon to transfer all of his remaining clothes and books from his childhood bedroom to Junhong’s - their - apartment.

He looks up from the laundry he’s folding when Junhong enters the room with a wide grin splitting his face in half. “What?”

“I’m just so happy to see you,” he says, and he bends down to kiss Jongup.

Jongup laughs. “It’s only been two hours, babe. Did you really miss me that much?”

“Yes.” Junhong’s expression turns serious. “I always miss you when we’re apart, even if it’s only a few minutes.”

If it weren’t Junhong, Jongup would probably gag at the sugary words, but Junhong says them with such sincerity that Jongup feels his heart flutter instead. He smiles and abandons the laundry in favor of pulling Junhong down on the bed with him.

Junhong follows willingly, snuggling into Jongup’s warm body and squirming a bit as Jongup’s hand trails down his side. “I have good news. One of our classes qualified for regionals today.”

“That’s amazing.” Jongup draws his fingers back up Junhong’s body, stopping at his jaw and pulling him closer to kiss his forehead. Jongup enjoys the way Junhong closes his eyes and sighs. “We should celebrate.”

“With pizza?”

“If that’s how you want to celebrate. I was thinking something more along the lines of…” Jongup trails off as he nips and nibbles at whatever parts of Junhong’s skin are available to him.

“Ah… Oh-okay. Your idea first, then pizza.”

 {~O~}

“That handsome gentleman with the suits has been asking about you,” Diane’s husky, smoker’s voice carries from the floor on the other side of the counter where she’s digging through the safe in search of Jongup’s last paycheck.

“Just the check please, Diane. I don’t need the gossip.”

“Why’re you quittin’ anyway?” Jongup rolls his eyes. They’ve discussed this, at length. Diane wouldn’t shut up until she had wheedled every bit of information out of Jongup that he would allow.

“Hyungwon offered me a teaching position. I took it. End of story.”

It isn’t really ‘end of story’ actually. Hyungwon had made a huge deal of Jongup’s promotion from demonstrator to instructor. He’d ended all of Junhong’s classes fifteen minutes early to explain that the students were being divided, and half of them would now be in Jongup’s classes instead.

Junhong had been so excited for Jongup that he’d forgotten their ‘no kissing in front of students’ rule and thrown himself at Jongup. About half of the kids had cringed while the other half cooed, and Jongup had wanted to round up all the ones who hadn’t gone all mushy and herd them to his new classroom right away. Mushiness wouldn’t do with the choreography he had planned for his class.

Diane emerges from behind the counter with a triumphant, “Aha!” holding an envelope addressed to Jongup with the company logo in the corner. Jongup takes it and opens his wallet to tuck it away safely, and another envelope slides out and hits the floor. It’s small and worn, still sealed, and it takes Jongup a moment to remember exactly what it is: Youngjae’s letter.

“Thanks, Diane,” Jongup mumbles as he turns to leave, still holding his wallet in one hand and the letter in the other. He stumbles out the door and down the sidewalk and right up to the counter of the bakery next door.

“Jongup?” Himchan hurries around the counter and helps him to a chair at one of the handful of tables out front. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Jongup holds the letter out to Himchan. “It’s from Youngjae.”

“It hasn’t been opened. Did you just get it?”

“No,” Jongup shakes his head, “months ago.”

Himchan flips the letter over and starts to slide his thumb under the flap. “Do you mind?” Jongup shrugs a shoulder at him, still a little dazed. Himchan opens the letter and unfolds it. He flattens it on the table in front of Jongup, but Jongup looks away.

“I… I’m not sure I’m ready, Chan. You read it for me.”

“Jongup, I can’t do that. You have to do it yourself, but I’ll sit here with you.” Jongup combs his hair out of his face with his fingers and groans. Himchan is right. He has to do this himself. He’s ready for that closure now. “I’m right here if you need me, okay?”

“‘Kay,” he says in a small voice. His hands shake as he lifts the paper and reads.

 

_Dear Jongup,_

 

_It’s probably unfair of me to say this, to lead with this, but I miss you. I miss your messy hair fanned out on the pillow when I come home from work late at night. I miss your quiet laughter when you watch television, trying not to disturb me while I’m working from home. I miss us passing in the bathroom as I get out of the shower and you get in when we both have early mornings at work._

_I… didn’t realise how much of our lives revolved around my work until I wrote that. I’m so sorry. I neglected you, and you deserve so much better. I thought I could show you my love by providing for you financially, by taking care of you, but I realise now that no relationship should work that way. You hinted multiple times that you were feeling ignored. I should have listened. I should have… I should have been better for you._

_I hope my actions didn’t cause any long-term damage to you. It must have been painful feeling like you weren’t worthy of my time and attention, but let me be clear: you are worthy. You are worthy of love and affection and attention. I should have provided that for you, and that failure is mine, not yours._

_I should also clarify that when I say I miss you, I mean I miss YOU. I don’t just miss coming home to someone, having someone around, all the things that come with being in a relationship. I miss your smile and your laugh, both of which have been absent from my life for much longer than we’ve been apart. I miss your warmth and kindness. I miss your scent and your touch, and no other person will be able to fill that void._

_I’m sorry, Jongup. I’m sorry that I wasn’t better to you, that I didn’t realise what I had before it was gone. I’m sorry that I took you and your presence in my life for granted. I’m sorry that I can’t let go, that I can’t move on, and I hope that things are different for you. I hope that you can find someone who makes you happy, someone who is everything for you in all the ways I couldn’t be._

_I can’t say goodbye. I don’t want to. I never wanted us to end, but I’m not going to hold you back any longer. If you’re happier without me, well, that’s disappointing, but I can live with it if it means you’re happy. And if you’re not… no. If you're not happy then you find something that makes you happy and do it, get it, obtain it in whatever way possible. Find your joy, Jongup. Find it and never let it go._

 

_Love,_

_Youngjae_

 

Honestly, it’s not what Jongup had expected. He thought Youngjae would be begging for Jongup to take him back or venting his anger over the breakup, but this is… supportive. This is who Youngjae used to be, way back when they first met, when Jongup was still just a sophomore in college and didn’t really have a clue about love or relationships. This is the guy who drove half an hour every night to stand and watch Jongup work just because he wanted them to spend time together. It’s the man he fell for the first time they kissed because he held Jongup’s face in gentle hands and slowly drew him closer until their lips just barely touched for the briefest of moments only to back away and look at Jongup with eyes that shone with adoration and promise.

For a fraction of a second Jongup thinks that if Youngjae had changed sooner, maybe he wouldn't have left, that if Youngjae is back to the way he was before things went to shit, maybe they can get back together, but then he imagines Junhong with his lips puckered and his nose and eyebrows scrunched together in the middle of his face, he sees him with his eyes closed and mouth open in a silent cry of pleasure, he envisions the intense, concentrated look on his face when he's trying to perfect a difficult move, and Jongup knows. He knows he's in love with Junhong.

He’s crying. Jongup only knows he’s crying because Himchan is moving toward him, leaning down to hug him, but Jongup doesn’t need Himchan like he thought he would. He swipes the tears away with the back of his hand.

“I have to go.” Jongup lurches forward out of his chair and right into Himchan's arms.

“Wait,” Himchan insists, catching Jongup and helping him steady himself. “Go where?”

“Home. I need to go home. I need to tell him.”

“Tell him what?”

“That I love him.” He chokes on the words as he gasps for air.

“Who? Youngjae?”

“What? No.” Jongup shakes his head frantically. “No, Junhong. I love Junhong.”

Himchan smiles. “Well then what are you waiting for, Uppie? Go get him.”

Jongup laughs through another burst of tears and hugs Himchan. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, buddy. Now go.”

 {~O~}

Jongup rushes home. He runs the last two blocks from the bus stop and tumbles through the door into the empty apartment before realising Junhong is still at work for another hour. He laughs at himself. He feels slightly hysterical as he stands in the middle of the living room and cackles. Calming himself, he looks around the apartment for something to do while he waits for Junhong to return.

Jongup makes the bed. He goes to the basement to start a load of laundry. He cleans the bathroom and alphabetizes their DVDs, and he's washing dishes when he finally hears the door open.

“Hey, babe, I'm - oof!” Jongup leaps at Junhong and knocks him backward into the door. “Home,” Junhong groans. “I'm home.” He wraps his arms around Jongup's waist and carries him to the living room, sitting on the couch with Jongup in his lap.

“Not that I'm not happy to see you too, but is something going on?”

Now that Junhong is here in front of him, Jongup isn't sure what he wants to say. He feels like blurting out “I love you” won't properly express his feelings, but explaining how he came to the realisation would probably be too confusing. Junhong seems to sense Jongup's inner battle and asks, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah everything's good… great actually. Fantastic. I'm…” Jongup laughs, mostly at himself but also at the perplexed expression on Junhong's face. “I read a letter from my ex today, and before you think it’s anything bad, it’s not. It’s actually exactly what I needed to hear because it opened my eyes, and now I have something I need to tell you.”

Junhong’s eyebrows run the full range from up to down and in between, finally settling on raised in expectation. “Okay,” he says. “Okay, what is it?”

“Junhong, I’ve been through a lot… some of it before we met and some of it with you. Some people helped me along the way. You know Himchan,” Junhong nods, but it’s obvious he’s losing his patience with Jongup’s explanation, wanting him to get to the point, “and you know how instrumental he was in helping me get over Youngjae. But the truth is, the person who’s helped me the most is you.”

Junhong opens his mouth to speak, but Jongup doesn’t give him a chance. “It was you who were so kind to me when no one had even noticed me for so long. It was you who made me realise just how unhappy I was with Youngjae and made me feel like I deserved better. It was you who gave me the opportunity to dance again and showed me that there are other options than just performing. Junhong, it was you who proved to me that my life is more than a meaningless job.

“Youngjae told me to find my joy, but the thing is, I’ve already found it. You’re my joy. It’s you. It’s you who I love. I love you, Junhong.”

Jongup waits. He waits for Junhong’s response, for his eyes and mouth to stop doing that twitchy thing they do when he can’t decide what to say. He waits, and it feels like every second that ticks by lasts an hour. By the time Junhong finally speaks, Jongup thinks he might as well have been waiting a week to hear the words.

“Oh, Jongup, sweetie… I love you too, but-”

“No.” Jongup’s heart sinks. “Please don’t say _but_ . I don’t wanna hear _but_ . _But_ never means anything good so please… Don’t say it.”

“No, no. Jongup, that’s not what I meant at all. I love you, babe. I love you. Don’t worry. I love you I love you I love you. Do you understand? Don’t panic, please.”

“Then why the but?”

Junhong giggles and pushes Jongup’s fringe behind his ears. “Because you’ve got the whole thing wrong. Yes, I placed all those things in front of you, but you… you’re the one who reached out and took the things that made you happy. You came to the workshop. You took the job. You took a chance on me. You took a chance on yourself. I’m not your joy, Jongup; you are.”

Jongup wants to argue, to tell Junhong that it’s not true because none of the opportunities would have been available to him if not for Junhong, but as he tries to find the words to do so, he feels himself slowly giving in. Junhong is right. Jongup finally had the guts to do some things for himself, and the result is happiness, the kind of happiness that Junhong has always had.

“Thank you, Junhong,” Jongup says with as much sincerity as he can possibly muster without bringing himself to tears.

“Stop thanking me and let’s celebrate you finally falling in love with me,” he teases. “It took you long enough. I’ve been waiting almost a year for you to come to this conclusion.”

“I’m sorry it took me so long.”

“Don’t be sorry, love. It doesn’t matter how long it took to get here. The wait was worth it.”

 {~O~}

It's years later, six of them… Jongup has been with Junhong for over six years, and not once has his love ever wavered. If anything, it’s only grown. He never feels unloved or unwanted or lonely.

They celebrate (because Junhong loves to celebrate anything and everything) their anniversary on the day Jongup finally told Junhong he loves him. Jongup takes Junhong out for tacos, though they’re nowhere near as good as the ones they had on their first date.

Afterwards, they’re walking down the street with no particular direction, just walking. Their bellies are as full as their hearts, and their hands are tangled together, swinging between them.

Jongup hears a familiar voice, one he hasn’t heard since the night Youngjae came to visit him at the grocery store. He turns his head in search of the voice, and there he is.

He seems shorter than Jongup remembers, but that’s probably because he’s been with Junhong so long. Everyone seems short by comparison. Youngjae is standing on a street corner, waiting for the light to change. He’s holding hands with a man that Jongup can only describe as cute, who throws his head back as he laughs at something Youngjae has said and exposes adorable bunny teeth, not unlike Jongup’s own.

Jongup feels Junhong’s fingers squeeze around his own, and he turns back to Junhong with a weightless feeling. “What is it, babe?” Junhong asks.

It’s nothing that would be important to Junhong, but ever since he read Youngjae’s letter, Jongup has worried about him, whether he was ever able to move on and find someone who makes him happy. Jongup glances back at the street corner once more. He sees Youngjae’s smile and hears his laugh, and he finally knows that Youngjae is okay.

“Nothing,” Jongup says, shaking his head, unable to wipe the grin off of his face. “It’s nothing. I love you.”

Junhong returns the grin and bumps his elbow against Jongup’s shoulder. “Love you too.” When Junhong says the words, they’re not meaningless, not just something two people who have been together for ages say to each other. They make Jongup’s heart skip in a very satisfying way. Maybe love isn’t the same thing as joy, but Jongup has both. He has Junhong too, and that’s all Jongup could ever ask for in this world.


End file.
